Smoke Gets In Your Eyes
by callistawolf
Summary: Always (movie) AU - the Ninth Doctor (John Smith) is an aerial firefighter pilot, his best friend is Jack Harkness and Rose Tyler is the girl he adores but has a hard time settling down with.


**Another one that I started but never finished. There's another "chapter" I could post but I worry it would only get people wanting it more and I don't have any specific plans for finishing it. If someone else wants to take it over, you're more than welcome!**

It was a beautiful summer day in northwestern Montana. The sun was shining, the sky was an impossible blue and there wasn't a cloud to be seen. No clouds, but there was smoke. It was the height of fire season and a wildfire was trying to gain a hold in the Kootenai National Forest. Firefighters were hard at work but due to the steep, rocky terrain, trucks couldn't get far enough into the forest to be effective. This meant the ground fighters had to hike in with their equipment and they needed to be supplemented by the aerial firefighters.

John Smith was a seasoned aerial firefighter. He'd been flying his Douglas A-26 Invader and fighting fires for fifteen years, ever since he'd emigrated to the United States from England. He'd learned how to fly back there, for the Royal Air Force, just outside his home town of Manchester. Flying had always been a passion of his; he felt at home in the cockpit and at peace amongst the clouds. He'd been young and idealistic when he heard there was a need for seasoned pilots to fly bombers in firefighting operations over in America. Honestly, he hadn't thought twice about it. He saw the ad in the paper one day, he was packing his bags the next.

He'd met Jack Harkness five years into the gig and the two men had become fast friends. Jack was a perfect counterpoint to him. Where he tended to be brooding and serious and uncompromising, Jack was teasing, flirtatious and spontaneous. Together, they made quite the team and never fought a fire without the other man nearby. In the last five years, however, the two hadn't strayed far from Kootenai and the nearby town of Libby. They called this forested corner of Montana home, always returning after jobs at other locations around the Pacific Northwest. A large reason for that was Rose Tyler.

John had met Rose about six years ago. She was also from England, from South London, and had moved to America to get a fresh start. She was young, but she'd been younger then, only nineteen years old. He'd met her at the airfield, a novice pilot in her spare time and a tower dispatcher for her day job.

Rose was amazing. She was petite and pert and full of life. She had golden blonde hair that only got blonder in the summer sun. She had tantalising curves and a full, kissable mouth. Her laugh was infectious and her spirit was unshakeable. There was a natural compassion to her that touched everyone she met. Everyone loved Rose Tyler and John was not immune.

Not that he hadn't tried hard to resist her at first. There was no way he couldn't have been her friend; she insinuated herself in his life, a little homesick and so glad to find someone from her homeland. But she'd been so young and he was thirty-five at the time. Not quite twice her age but still a very significant age difference. He felt like a pervert enough with the thoughts he'd entertained about her privately.

A year after he'd met her, however, she'd made a move on him. He'd thought that maybe she fancied him; he'd seen the looks she would send his way when she didn't think he was looking. John couldn't fathom why she did; he wasn't what he would consider classically good looking. He wasn't a pretty boy. He was tall and slender and muscular, he had closely trimmed dark hair, and sparkling icy blue eyes. But he also had big ears that stuck out from his head and a very prominent nose. Rose didn't seem to mind and in fact, she seemed to like his distinctive features.

There had been a little downtime between forest fires and Jack and he had made plans to drive into Libby to catch a movie. Jack had invited Rose along but then backed out himself at the last minute, leaving the two of them together. It had been a rather obvious matchmaking attempt, Jack knew all about how John felt about Rose and he suspected that Rose had confided in Jack as well. It had also worked brillJohntly. John had ended up putting his arm around Rose during the movie, and afterward they had gone out for dinner together at a local diner. She'd giggled and flirted and teased with him over a plate of chips. His resistance had melted away and when he'd dropped her off at her little cottage later on that night, he'd kissed her at last.

Since then, they had been inseparable. John still had his own home, an apartment he rented in the same building that Jack lived in, but he spent most of his time over at Rose's cottage in the woods. She was closer to the airfield, so it was practical, but the truth was that he loved to spend every minute he could with her. Every minute that he wasn't flying in the sky, that is.

Like right now. John was cruising at altitude and from his vantage point, he could not only clearly see the fire, but the miles and miles of forest around them. It was his job to protect that forest and he took that job very seriously. He'd already dumped one load of fire retardant slurry on the fire and he had another load ready to go in his bomb bay. Glancing at his fuel gauge, however, told him that he might not have quite enough to do another dump and return back to the airfield. It was a close call.

John loved close calls.

"Tower, I'm going back for another drop," he said into his headset.

There was a crackle of static and then… "Tanker 57, John, not a good idea. Your fuel is real low." Rose's voice sounded no-nonsense. God, he loved her.

"I can make it," he insisted.

"Stubborn git," she muttered but he caught it. It made him grin.

"You love it," he told her and he heard a snort on the other end. "Just let me blow out this one tree for your birthday and I'll be on my way home."

Banking left, he approached the fire for a second time. With the precision that one only got from fifteen years of doing this job, he dropped the load of slurry perfectly on the worst of the flames. Smoke billowed up and he could hear the sizzle through the headset and the canopy of his plane. Perfect.

He headed back to the airport, whistling happily. It was Rose's birthday today and he had great plans for her that night. He'd bought her a fantastic present that he felt she was going to really love. He'd also called in a singing pilot to deliver her the gift. She knew the attention would embarrass her, but he loved to see her blush. Then, later on tonight, he'd see if he couldn't find some other inventive ways to make her blush.

John was nearly to the airstrip when his left engine spluttered and died. Glancing at his gauge, he saw the needle resting on "E". The grinding sounded through the cockpit.

"Tanker 57 to tanker base," he called over the radio. "I've, er, got a small problem here."

"Talk to me, John," Harry, the senior dispatcher, said.

"I might have overestimated my fuel just a tad," he said casually, but he could feel the sweat beading on his brow. Scanning the horizon, he could see the airstrip peeking through a clearing in the forest. "I can see the base from here, though, and my right engine is fine so I don't think there's going to be any…" He was interrupted by the loud spluttering of his right engine. "…Problem," he finished a little weakly.

"John, what do you need?" Harry asked tersely. "Tell me, what do you need?"

John glanced out the cockpit window and saw his right engine prop stop spinning. He swallowed. "Glider practice."

He could hear Rose bite off a curse through the headset and knew she was running across the tower to hit the crash alarm. He could make out Harry's voice calling out through the tower loudspeaker, "We've got a situation here. We've got a flier coming in dead stick."

His cockpit was eerily quiet, save for the chaos on the radio. He could hear the wind whistling through the propellers, through the minute openings in his canopy. Licking his lips, he mused that this wasn't so bad. He was rusty on panic. Panic kept him sharp. He had the airport in sight and there was a nice headwind to guide him over the trees. He'd be fine.

And then, that headwind disappeared. His plane jolted as it lost altitude rapidly. John's breath died in his throat as he gripped his stick. The trees were getting awful close to the bottom of his plane…

Then, like a miracle, he saw a little Aeronca 7AC Champion burst forth over the trees, circling the airstrip to come in for a landing. Holy crap, it was the singing pilot he'd ordered for Rose! John laughed, the breath whooshing out of him as the smaller aircraft produced just enough wind for him to make it over the tree line at the edge of the airport.

He could see the assembled firetrucks and emergency crew assembled as he touched down on the runway and taxied to a stop. His hands shook as he removed his headset. He loved close calls, but that one was a little _too_ close. He needed a moment to compose himself.

Back in the tower, Rose was shaking too. Whether from nerves or from sheer anger, she didn't know. Her heart literally hurt as she stared out at John's plane, listing a little as it came to a rest in the dirt off to the side of the airstrip. Did he even know how close he had come to dying? Did he know what his antics (because this wasn't the first time emergency crews were scrambled for him) did to her? Did he even _care_?

Her mind racing, Rose thought that maybe she knew a way that she could show him what it felt like. If he felt for her anything what she felt for him, he wouldn't want to watch her risk herself. Slamming out of the tower and down the steps to the tarmac, engineers and firefighters scrambling away before her, she felt her anger rising.

She stormed across the tarmac towards another A-26 that was being prepped for a run. Before she could reach the plan, however, she was intercepted by a young, handsome man bearing a bunch of balloons and an enormous box festooned with a red bow. She tried to side-step him but he just matched her movements, placing himself in front of her.

Finally, Rose planted her hands on her hips and glared at him. He straightened up and beamed at her. He had ridiculous, spiky brown hair, warm brown eyes and a dimpled grin. He thrust the box at her, forcing her to grab it from him before he cleared his throat and began to sing Happy Birthday to her.

Her mouth fell open as she gaped at this pretty boy. She pushed the box back at him and stormed past him. This had John's fingerprints all over it. He never could remember the important dates right. And right now, she wasn't in the mood to feel grateful.

The ground crew gaped at her as she climbed into the cockpit of the bomber. She promised to "hold it" for them and didn't miss their stunned faces and shouts a moment later as she throttled back and pulled away, down the airstrip.

She'd show him.

Jack Harkness hurried out to John's plane in his open-top jeep. He'd seen enough of John's antics over the years, what he often wondered was a secret death wish, to be impressed by the flair he'd pulled off this latest stunt with.

He pulled up just as John was climbing out of the cockpit. Jack stood up in the seat. "You magnificent pagan god!" he yelled and John turned to grin at him.

"You liked that?" his friend asked as he hopped down to the ground.

"You're a legend, Mr. Smith," Jack said and he embraced his friend. He detected a slight tremor in his friend's shoulders but he covered it with a quick clap on his back before pulling back.

"What'd Rose think of that?" John asked.

"Last I saw, she was storming across the tarmac towards one of the bombers, some guy with balloons chasing along after her," he said. "She looked a bit ticked."

"Really?" He sounded surprised. "I'd think she'd be glad I hadn't met an untimely end."

Jack snorted. "You still have some things to learn about women, I think."

"Which bomber was she headed for?" John asked suddenly, squinting down the airfield.

"Uh, Tanker 24, I think. A-26. Why?"

He pointed down the runway at a bomber taxiing for takeoff. "That one?"

Jack cringed. "Yeah."

The two men watched as the bomber lifted into the air, the tail dipping a little. John's jaw was set tight as he watched. Jack knew the other man couldn't bear for Rose to fly. He generally didn't try to control his girlfriend's life but her flying was something that the two continually fought over. John was a possessive, controlling sort of guy. He wasn't obnoxious about it like some guys were and he could be a right teddy bear when he put his mind to it. But when it came to Rose, common sense seemed to desert his dear friend.

The plane circled the airport before lining up for a landing at the runway that they were standing on. Her wings dipped dangerously from side to side as she struggled to straighten out. Jack could all but hear John's heart pounding from where he stood next to him. He pulled the other man off the runway as Rose touched her plane down at last, speeding past them. John's face was stormy and he ran towards Jack's jeep.

Jack drove them to where Rose had brought the plane to a stop. She was climbing down, directing thanks towards the ground crew who ran up to secure the plan. John didn't even wait for the jeep to come to a stop before he hopped out, striding towards Rose with tension radiating off his shoulders.

"What the hell was that?" he shouted. Rose didn't even stop as she kept walking towards the quonset buildings set up along the edge of the airstrip.

"I just needed to let off some steam," she said, not even looking at him. Jack trotted to keep up with the arguing couple. This scene was nothing new. Rose and John were clearly made for each other and Jack had been happy for his part in bringing them together. But their relationship was tumultuous at best and arguments like these were a matter of course.

"You know I don't like you in the air," John growled. Rose didn't even react.

"I know," she replied simply. "And you know that I don't like your foolhardy stunts."

Jack smirked to himself. So she was trying to prove something to John, to show him what it felt like to watch a loved one take their life in their hands. It was clever and Jack had to admit he was on Rose's side in all of this. As much as he admired John and his natural flying talent, the man took ridiculous risks and he felt bad for what Rose must go through on a daily basis with him.

They neared the buildings and Rose was headed right for her bicycle where it leaned against a tree. "Did you at least like the singing pilot I ordered for you?" John asked, wisely switching gears. He might be a fool, but he knew when Rose had him cornered.

Rose snorted as she looked over her shoulder at John. She met his eyes for the first time since the whole emergency landing debacle. "Too little too soon?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "I'm going to go get a nap, now that my shift is over."

"Come back tonight?" John said, sounding a little pleading. "There's going to be a band and everything. I'll buy you dinner."

She threw her leg over and mounted her bike. "I'll think about it."

Rose began to peddle off and John called after her, "We can dance. I know you like to dance."

She didn't acknowledge him as she disappeared through the trees. Jack clapped a hand on his friend's back. "Real smooth," he told him.

"She'll come," John said confidently. "She won't be able to resist."

"You better watch it with her," Jack warned. "You hold on too tight, you'll lose her."

John turned to him and Jack saw the set of his jaw and the steel in his eyes. "Not gonna happen."


End file.
